This is a question I get a lot from “normal” people. I mean, I can’t blame them…I purposely climb on top of 1000 lb animal on a regular basis and have “discussions” with it and call it fun. Sometimes I get tossed off and get right back on. If that ain’t crazy, I’m not sure what is.
Honestly, *I* keep asking myself this a lot lately, especially with all the crap I’ve been giving myself over Simba.
Why? What IS the point of me continuing to climb up on top of a 1000 lb animal and duke it out in the name of fun?
I’m not sure anymore.
It’s a passion, that’s for sure. The inability to just “step away” proves that. The antsy feeling I get when I don’t lay my hands on a horse for a few days, or the unfulfilled, disatisfied blanket that settles over me when it’s gorgeous out and I can’t ride proves that too. Horses are really my only “thing”. I don’t have much else to sustain me, because horses have always been The Reason. Photography has snuck its way in, but even that is wrapped around all things horse, and my day job is all horses, all the time. I used to feel incomplete when my day didn’t have some sort of horse component. It is who I am.
I feel disenchanted with the whole thing. Riding, horses, and everything in between. I find myself not wanting to play anymore. I thought it was just me and that I was defective in some way. I used to be happy climbing up on anything and going for a ride — didn’t care when, where, how, why, or what. If it was a horse and it wasn’t going to kill me, I would ride it.
Then GP happened. Then Image happened. Something broke. I *allowed* something to break. I don’t know how to fix it and how to get that spark back. I thought for a little while that I was just getting lazy, that I didn’t want to fight for it or chase the sun because Jesus Christ it’s a lot of fucking work…but it’s so much more than that right now. I feel blocked and unable to reach that part of me.
Then, last week, M handed the reins to her opinionated, funny, one-person-only horse over to me and I climbed on — in PJ pants and Ariat terrains in a Wintec Pro dressage saddle that was MUCH too small for my giant ass — and I smiled. It felt real. I felt “it” again, and even though Pride and I aren’t bestest buddies, I would have happily toodled around on him for another hour or so. It was uncomplicated and there was no pressure from M or myself or anything and the light in my heart lit briefly and feebly.
So, it’s there. I just need to rekindle it. I keep riding because of the beautiful, frustrating, indescribable, maddening, challenging, fulfilling thing in the world and I love it, even when I hate it.
I’ve been slacking lately on the update front. There have been ups and downs, per usual, but yesterday we had a really nice 7 mile ride that was mostly at a gait (hellloooo, rail trail!). He is such a funny horse, and he really is such a good boy…he’s just not “my” boy.